Danmark's Fødselsdag Gave
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: You know when there's thunder and lightning and you can't sleep so you sit up 'til four typing Yaoi? Yah... It's Denmark's birthday, and Norway ponders what to get him. M for a reason. Seriously. Yaoi, DL;DR ONESHOT


**DANMARKS FØDSELSDAG GAVE~**  
>A Hetalia Axis Powers Fanfiction*Presented by FanSlewFantasy 2011<br>_DanmarkxNorge _***R18*  
>~ORAL~FROTT~SHITTY DANSK~<br>…**

_This pairing… so cute! Denmark is fun to write. XD  
>I do not own hetalia. Also, please excuse my Danish if its fucked up or some shit. Its not my first language. Thee are translations(ish) below. If any actual Danish speakers have read this and seen something drastically wrong with my Danish or my translations, please stop laughing and send me a message about it, and I will get that shit fixed, yo.<em>

…

I knew it was that time of year again when I walked into the meeting room and saw on the table, every single place set with fat chocolate flødeboller and miniature Danish flags.

"Hell yes! America, upon realising the same thing at very much the same time, lunged at the table, grabbing his sweet and cramming it into his mouth as fast as he could.

"Oh god... yes. It's like an orgasm in my mouth."

"Alfred!" Arthur reprimanded him sharply, taking his own seat and examining the chocolate cream puff that had been carefully placed beside his notes and glass of water. "Don't be so vulgar!"

"Yeah, whatever. Are you gunna eat that?"

England snatched his treat away before Alfred could, and scowled. I rolled my eyes and edged by them, tripping over a pretty young guy id never seen before. ("Ah! Sorry!" "It's alright...uh…" "Canada." "Right.") On my way to my seat by the window next to Romano.

"Wow Lovi, these are great aren't they! I swear they get better every year." Spain on the other side of him was waving his flødebolle enthusiastically in his face. Romano, who had nibbled the top off of his and had began administering feline licks to the cream, shrugged, disinterested, and fiddled carelessly with the flag.

All around the room there was jabbering and excited snacking and a general consensus that flødeboller were truly the best thing ever. Especially Alfred, who I happen to know counts down 365 days until he can eat another one. I sighed and sat down, ignoring mine, and opened my planner to today's date. How had I forgotten? I had written it in black ink, with the memo 'pull a sicky' in the margin. And yet somehow...

"Hey Norgie... got anything you wanna say to the birthday boy?"

I jumped almost through the roof and slammed my planner shut.

"Mathias!" voice coming out a little high pitched, as though I had been caught doing something I ought not have, I greeted him. "Hello. Happy birthday."

"Can you say it på Dansk for me Norgie?"

I pretended not to hear him.

"Hey Den, thanks for the whatever it is." Spain lent forward so he could see past Romano and I. "happy birthday. Are you having a party then?"

"Jo of course." a wide, playing grin. "Everyone welcome, no gifts."

…

Denmark was rather fond of his parties.

I liked them, but still when I arrived on Denmark's doorstep that night, fiddling anxiously with my beret, I couldn't help but be jealous of Ice, who had stayed at home to watch the x-factor.

Manning up, taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. I could hear pumping music coming from the basement, but it was faint. I wondered if anyone would answer the door.

Relief flooded me. I could go home, and if anyone asked, I had come but the door hadn't been opened. I was off the hook.

I was halfway down the garden path when the door creaked open, and a rectangle of light was cast on my back and the cobbles beneath my feet.

"Norge, is tha' y'?"

"Berwald, hi." I was a little surprised to see him there, standing in Denmark's house with an apron on and his usual, cool expression giving no clue as to how he felt about t. "I was... I was just uh..."

"... c'me in th'n." He beckoned me forward and inwardly groaning I bustled back up the stairs into the warm, light entry hall.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Berwald." I told him as I removed my scarf. "has Danmark got you cleaning again?"

"no, Fin's cookin' an' 'e ask'd m' t' 'elp him."

"Oh, right." I pulled off my coat and edged past the big man to the kitchen door sown the hall. It was open, and the smell of frankfurter hot-dogs and fresh bread beckoned me in.

"Hi Tino."

Tino looked up from what he was doing, stirring a pot of melted chocolate by the looks, at my voice. He smiled brightly when he saw me, flicking the element off and bustling forward for a brief hug as his partner edged back into the room.

"Hey, good to see you made it."

"Good to see you're being useful." I touched the tip of his nose and he screwed it up, taking the piss.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Where's the birthday boy then?" I raised myself onto my tiptoes to see over his head, to Berwald opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a tray of fresh flødeboller, before arranging them carefully on a plate.

"He's downstairs with the rest. He will be so happy to see you, you know that right?" Finland gave me a small smile. "he acts so big and boisterous, but right up until we moved the party downstairs he was dropping everything each time the doorbell rung because he wanted to see if it was you on the other side."

I bit my lip. Feeling a sharp stab of guilt hearing that.

"Ah, yeah. Well, I'm a bit late..."

"He didn't think you were coming. So you should go down there and give him a smile, make his year." Finland's small, gentle hand patted my cheek. Berwarld loomed behind him, bearing the plate of cream sweets.

"wh'n y' go, t'ke these. Alfr'ds eaten three whole pl'tes alr'dy."

"Good god." I pulled a face, accepting the plate and looking to Finland for confirmation of this incredible claim.

"True story." He concurred, leaning back into Sweden and laughing when the larger mans arms curled around his waist. "Also, tell Den the hotdogs are going to be another twenty minutes."

"Will do." I decided I best leave, before clingy Berwald's kisses to Tino's neck became something more amorous. I was out of the kitchen and heading for the basement stairs when I heard a reprimanding whack and a soft giggle.

"Not right now, we have cooking to do!"

Nervous butterflies hammered around in my stomach, flying totally out of formation and most likely completely drunk. Relationships did that to me. Watching PDA... made me uncomfortable. It was difficult enough for me, sitting in meetings listening to Germany when he had the other Italian boy coil his arms around his waist. To see my own family all wound up like that... well it brought it all closer to home, didn't it. It made me... really anxious.

I bit my lip and edged down the hall to the basement stairs, the music grew louder as I approached. A quick glance at my watch, it was 11.15. The party had started at seven.

Oops, my bad.

I hesitated, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping onto the stairwell. The boom of bass speakers and the excited chatter of nations rolled up the stairs to meet me, after the bright light in the hall, the low disco lit swirl of colour and strobes was somewhat disorientating. I shut the door behind me and clutched the banister before descending, craning my neck to see the heaving mass of people drinking and laughing and dancing to Aqua and other delightful Danish popstars wallowing from the speakers on the far side of the room.

I spotted America first, when I was halfway down the stairs, wearing a Viking helmet and talking animatedly to a stony-faced England. Unsurprisingly, he was right by the snack table, chowing down on a plateful of flæskesvaer and dip.

How that man isn't the approximate size of Jupiter is beyond me.

"Hello Mister America." I approached him, carefully dodging Sealand darting around everyone's legs, and tapping him smartly on the shoulder. "How are you?"

His eyes widened in shock and he spun on his heals, the sparkly black waistcoat he wore over his best celebration t-shirt ('the party don't start 'til I walk in' it boasted on the chest) was unbuttoned, and the front panels whacked me gently when he turned.

"Oh, hey N." A bright grin broke his face and his eyes immediately fell on the plate I bore. "Are those for me?"

I pressed my lips together and handed them over. England behind him stood on his toes, peeking over his shoulder.

"Alfred, you shouldn't eat so many of those…"

"Yeah, whatever Arthur." He had already taken the plate and bitten one treat already. Cream was smeared generously over his lips. "You're just pissed cause if you ate more than two you'd blow up to the size of a house."

Arthur pulled a face and I cleared my throat.

"Either of you know where Matthias is?"

"mm. He and Gilbert were having a drinking contest last time I checked." Arthur spoke, rubbing one of his prominent eyebrows thoughtfully. The man looked weird in casual clothes. Or maybe it was just his choice of casual clothes. A pair of bootlegs and argyle sweater… I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be camp or retro. Possibly even old man.

I nodded in thanks, rather than ask, and turned to gaze around the basement for a crowd gathered around what could potentially be a drinking contest. Everyone and his dog seemed to be here, (Germany in particular, who was sitting rigidly in a chair beside the furnace and bearing a really big Alsatian on his lap) and I struggled to pick put from the mess of faces who was who. Greece and Japan, trying unsuccessfully to slow dance to the artistic excellence that is Rasumus Seebach's 'nattervan', Italy, who seemed oblivious to the fact France was flirting shamelessly with him and three other nations I didn't recognise at the same time. I hopped, as I slipped by them, Germany wouldn't notice. Because as odd and frustrated my feelings toward Matthias were, as much as I found myself hating the man at times, I didn't exactly want world war three to break out in his basement. That would just be too unfortunate. Really.

I spotted a hopeful huddle by the speakers and drinks table, a tall brunette man with his back to me, bearing another more delicate boy on his back so they both could see over the heads of whoever was in the centre of the group. Spain and Romano, I prayed, and clicking my tongue, unable to hear anything over the crow of "jeg kalder på dig" I wove over, nearly being blindsided by a faintly familiar brunette wearing kaki and spinning a green eyed, freakily androgynous boy in his arms.

"Sorry mate." The brunette grinned at me, a wild, rugged grin, and the kid he carried laughed and clutched his kahki shirt tightly. I gave the kid a weak smile; he tucked a large curl of hair behind his ear and jerked his head.

"If you're looking for Den he's over there."

The two of them had the strangest, thickest accents I'd ever heard. And the young boy was wearing gumboots.

It was a relief, however, to know that I was headed in the right direction. I gave a nod of thanks, and just as Rasmus began serenading the room about how love is calling now at night, it's calling me, I made it to the edge of the crowd. Finally I was able to see into the three men in the middle seated around a table sunk beneath the weight of an indecent amount of empty beer bottles and one large can of Smirnoff, and I must say if I didn't know what to expect I would have been a little disgusted.

Gilbert was obviously winning. Which was surprising, considering he was the smallest of the three. That being said, Ivan Braginski wasn't doing too poorly either, if the large pile of beer bottles by his ugg-booted feet were anything to go by.

At least, I noted dryly, he had been so descent as to take his best, not-bloodstained party uggies on today.

Matthias, regretfully, was hammered. I could see it as soon as I broke the crowd, his pale cheeks saddled by the red flush of intoxication. He had done pretty well, I guess. Fifteen beers wasn't his best, but it was better than me. He was reaching for the next one when I shoved my way through and knocked it firmly from his grip.

"Gør det ikke!" I struggled to be heard over the music. He looked up in shock, eyes wide, hair a little more tussled than usual, and squinted at me curiously.

"Norge? Is that you?"

"Ja! Hvad synes du, du laver?"

I wrestled with his hand still clutching the neck of the bottle, everyone else in the circle was staring at me now, I tried not to notice, and kept on drilling my gaze through him.

Rather than answer my question, he blinked blearily, forehead crinkled in the effort of thinking through an alcoholic haze.

"Norgie"

And before my eyes his face broke into a delirious, drunk grin.

"Tak fordi du kom! du ser så flot i aften..."

Totally forgetting he was supposed to be in a contest, probably a good thing, come to think of it, he drew himself to his feet, lunged over the table and threw his arms around me. I squeaked, the song ended, and the mocking giggles of the crowd, as well as the self satisfied snicker of Gilbert as he reached for another beer flushed my cheeks an unfortunate red.

"Idiot!" I hissed, trying to push him off me. "Don't do that! Let me go! slip mig fri!" with a fierce, panicky shove I got him off and stepped out of his reach, smoothing my hair and hoping my flushed cheeks weren't to obvious in the dim light. His eyebrows arched, uncontrollable blonde hair fell in his eyes. He seemed astonished by my reaction and every one else had stopped looking now, returning their attention

"Hvad?" he asked, popping the collar of his plain white shirt to sniff it. "er der noget galt med mig? lugter jeg? "

I swallowed anxiously, squaring my shoulders.

"No. I just don't like it when you leap on me like that. It's awkward and embarrassing for the both of us."

Matthias clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"Norge, its my birthday. Could you at least try to speak a _little_ Danish for me? It's not THAT different from Norwegian. It's not like I'm asking you to speak Greek I-"

I held up my finger to silence him. His words were making me flustered again. Goddamnit! What was I even thinking, coming here? As he edged around the table behind Russia and Prussia, I got a glimpse of the two both reaching for the same bottle of vodka, before he was right in my face. My eyes were level with his collarbone; there was a faint sheen of sweat across the pale skin there, visible by the open top buttons of his shirt.

"Rude to point." He clamped his warm palm around my pointing finger and pushed it down, I jerked it away roughly and he snickered. At least, I noted, he was standing. A little wobbly like but not bad. A new track was playing on the radio, but this one I didn't know.

"I… spoke Danish to you just before." It was hard for me to recall my train of thought. He was gazing at me with shocking focus, for a drunk man. "There, that counts as your gift."

He swayed where he stood for a moment, trying to process that, and after a few heart pounding moments, shrugged.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway. I'm glad you came."

He pulled off careless and casual quite well, but sweat beaded on the back of my neck when I thought of Tino's words earlier.

_he was dropping everything each time the doorbell rung because he wanted to see if it was you on the other side._

"Of course I came. As if I'd miss it."

Lie, and we both knew it. But he pretended not to, and gave me a bright, trademark grin.

"Okay. Well, have you had anything to eat?"

I shook my head. "No…"

"Do you want something?"

"No." I remembered I was meant to tell him about the hotdogs. "And the hot dogs wont be down for… what are you doing?" my whole body stiffened when, wearing a 'I'm not listening but carry on anyway' expression, he stuck his hand out to adjust my hairclip.

"It was crooked." He smiled again and swayed a little. "But hey, I'm getting myself another drink. Want one?"

He didn't wait for my answer, leaving me loose jawed and a little offended, to weave through the throng to the refreshments table. There was a roar from the group huddled around the two other drinkers, and a heavy thump that sounded a little bit like a giant Russian passing out, and I winced. This party was not going to end pretty.

I turned around and my suspicions were confirmed when, halfway through his victory speech, Gilbert threw up in a pot plant in the corner of the basement. Fortunately, it was one of those plastic yuccas, stuck as a last minute attempt at hiding the fact we were in a basement, and would live.

I screwed up my face in disgust and edged away. Mathias had disappeared, I wondered if he had been serious about another drink. Surely he wasn't so stupid as to get even more pissed?

I sighed and scouted a sofa in the corner, currently occupied by a flint faced Switzerland and his sister. There was a spare space beside them, and I made a beeline.

It was going to be a long evening.

…

"Norge?"

I jumped, the hand falling on my head jolting me from my happy thoughts of the movie I had gone to with ice the other day, back to awareness of the party roaring around me.

It was almost three am. All the sober, classy individuals like England and Japan (surprisingly enough escorted by a stone sober Greece), had gone home. Italy was asleep on my shoulder while his partner knocked back beer like Gilbert had been doing four hours earlier, even Finland was tipsy now, trying to con Berwald to stick his hands down the front of his pants on the dancefloor. I had ignored the 'help me' looks the Swede had given me when it had happened at first, maybe out of pure pettiness I don't know. If he didn't like having his hand raped by a drunk Tino, then why was he perusing a romantic relationship with him?

France was in his underwear.

"What do you want?" I snapped my face up to look at Mathias. The shift of my body stirred Italy, and I patted his knee in apology. Not a problem though, he snuggled back down, and went back to sleep. How anyone could sleep through 'the dreams' was beyond me.

"Komme nu norge…" Denmark was at his winey, emotional stage of drunkenness and I was surprised, as that came quite early in his drunk cycle. Maybe he had lain off the alcohol after all, since I had arrived. "First off I cant find you all night, and when I do, you wont speak Danish for me even on my birthday!" his bottom lip thrust out, and I looked away. Such a puppy face was unsuitable. The man was a fucking Viking for god's sake. Where were his club and beard and masculinity?

"I told you. I don't like speaking anything but English with nations. It puts us all on the level."

Denmark sniffed.

"Not even if there was only us around?"

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. He nudged the side of my face with the small, half drunk jägerbomb in his hand. The ice clinked in the glass and I caught a sharp whiff of alcohol. Maybe, I thought in a moment of weakness, I could go for a drink after all…

No.

I sat up a little straighter and met his eyes straight on.

"I came to your party, okay? Is that not enough for you?"

He sighed deeply, and crouched down beside my seat, so we were eye level.

"Nej." The glass was placed carefully on the concrete floor, in the low light of the basement, and the flashing strobes and disco balls spinning hallucinogenic colours on everything, his eyes fumed.

"Det er det ikke. Du ved, hvad jeg vil har fra dig."

I squirmed uncomfortably. Drunk Matthias was always much more confrontational, and I suspected a little bi-polar.

"Du forstå, ikke? Hvis du vil ikke snakke dansk, så skal jeg snakke det til dig, og du skal høre hvad det er jeg vil siger."

I shook my head ever so faintly, but he carried on.

"Jeg elsker dig."

That was enough.

I stood, Italy slipped off me and remained sleeping soundly on the sofa. Matthias stumbled to his feet and I pressed my lips together, face bright red I imagine.

"denne samtale er slut." i snapped, "jeg vil køre hjem nu. du er fuld."

"ha!" he grinned; his smile was a little slurred. "You spoke Danish."

"Fuck dig." I pushed past him and wrapped my arms around my stomach, which for some reason was churning and curling and bubbling. I wondered if I might be sick. My legs were jelly. What the hell? Had I misheard him? Please say I had misheard him…

"Ja tak! Åh! Nej, Norge, vent en øjeblik!" his voice lifted over the hammer of bass and I stumbled to the stairs as he pursued. My heartbeat was hammering.

"Vent!" his fingers caught the hem of my shirt and I spun around sharply. "Være så søde…"

"no. fuck off, let me go." I slipped free and clattered up the stairs.

When I reached the landing and the harsh white illumination of his hall, I let out a shaky sigh.

"What was he thinking?" I muttered, face buried in my hands to wipe the anxious cold sweat off my brow. My fingers trembled, for some reason. "What in the name of hell was he- YAH!" I almost fell backward when sly, sorrowful arms wound around my waist.

"Don't go Norgie." His voice was soft, yet I could hear it over the beat of the music downstairs. "We can go upstairs and chat. Will you sit with me and-"

"No!" I tried to wriggle out of his arms but he held me firm. His breath smelled of beer and cherries. "Let me go!"

"But its my birthday!" he whined, and I thought once again of things Vikings shouldn't be allowed to do. My chest constricted and my knees shook. I wondered if they may give way from under me.

"I will go with you…" I told him, struggling to keep my voice steady. "If you let me go."

He released me, and I almost ran. Truly, I had intended to do exactly that. But when I stood straight and caught sight of his anxious, flustered face in hall mirror, I froze.

We stood there for almost a whole minute, regarding each other in the mirror, before he beckoned me upstairs.

"Here." He stepped into the stairwell upstairs, pulling the basement door closed and muffling the sound of the party. "Come with me, I want to talk to you." a hand was offered firmly for taking. I stared at it for a moment, as though it may be infectious.

"I didn't drug it!"

I sucked up my anxiety and took the hand. It was cool, but slightly sticky with sweat. Denmark hummed a faint hum, and ascended the stairs, dragging me tripping and tumbling behind him. If one didn't know better, an observer would swear I was the drunk one.

We reached the top, he didn't bother hitting the landing light.

"Jeg elsker dig."

He had me tugged into his arms and held firmly against his chest before I could even register we had stopped climbing. Wide eyed and dizzy with disbelief, I tried to push back, but no let. His arm slinked around my waist was steady and strong.

"What?"

"jeg elsker dig."

"no, I heard you, wha-mph!" I was silenced firmly and aggressively. His lips clapped over mine in a smear of warm alcohol, I yelped but the sound was stolen by his tongue swiping inside my mouth, pressing against my own, sucking…

Overcome and dizzy with disbelief, my legs almost gave way beneath me. Hands roamed my sides and waist, pillaging and claiming in an aggressive clawing way. I thumped my fists on his chest and managed to tear back.

"Stop!" breathless, my demand was nowhere near as powerful as I had intended. "du! Du er… You are well sleazy, you know that?" fiercely flushed, I slammed my hands against his collar and wiggled. "Let me go! Let me go for gods sake you-" I dropped my sentence in sheer overwhelming shock when my hip slid sideways and I nudged against his crotch. The insistent press of what was without doubt an erection was sickening.

"Are you getting off?" I hissed, eyes wide, heart beating below my Adams apple. He didn't meet my gaze; head hung so that clammy party dank locks of hair shadowed his face. Nose to nose, the world was spinning much to fast around me. His touch burned through my clothes and on my skin.

"jeg elsker dig, norge." Barely more than a whisper. To petrified to push him away when he kissed me again I stood there and took it. The palm of his hand caressed the small of my back.

A part of me, the most conscious and logical part, was disgusted. He was gross. His breath smelled of alcohol and his body was clammy with sweat. His lips were too slick, his tongue too bossy, wriggling fat and aggressively inside my mouth. Another part was mature and sensible. Maybe he was just being drunk. Surely he would not remember this, come morning? But a part of me… a part I couldn't justify, a part I didn't want to justify of even acknowledge, was melting. God, not just melting, _melting._ Like my spine was turning to stardust. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, my hips pressed forward against my will so as to be against the hot hardness of his crotch. Everything took on an oily, rainbow consistency. Distorted colours, the darkness of the landing wasn't helping, I was shuttled into hyper awareness of the pulse of bass vibrating through the whole house from the basement. My head throbbed and I gagged, but he didn't seem to mind, pulling away for a moment with a smack, sucking a breath without closing his mouth and then returning with smothering force.

My eyes fluttered shut, my fingers clutched his shirt so tightly I could feel blood surging away from the tips, but didn't stay long. Instead, one arm wound around his neck, the other palm grasped his cheek and I traced my thumb along his blunt jaw. Lips parting, I matched the thrust of his tongue and plunged over the top to press to the roof of his mouth. He growled lowly, fingers raking up between my shoulder blades and through my hair from the nape of my neck. Tingles, like glitter sprinkling from my scalp and trickling down my neck.

"Ah, Matthias…"

"mmm?" His kisses descended my throat and I let him suck a small bruise on the skin behind the junction of ear and jaw. It was as though he was sucking the air from my chest… I crumpled against him and sighed hopelessly, his arms drew me in and kept me, possessive.

"Hey, Norge…"

His breath ghosted my ear and i shivered.

"What?"

"Vil du med og se min frimærkesamling?"

"..." bewildered, I froze, wondering if I had misheard him. "huh?"

A light laugh, he kissed my forehead.

"ah, du er så seriøse. Men det kan jeg godt lide ved dig."

"English please!"

He clicked his tongue, a faint waft of jägerbomb still lingering on his palate.

"fine, fine. I said-"

"I know what you said!" flustered I wiggled out of his grip. "You… that… was that a pickup line? Cause god it was terrible."

He shrugged. "well, one day it might work…"

"Not today mister!"

"Not even if I get on my knees and beg?" he dropped obediently and I stepped back in alarm. My back pressed against the stairwell banister and a surge of vertigo left me feeling kind of pukey.

"… What?"

"Because I will. Look, I'm doing it." His hands brushed the surface of my shoes and he tipped his head back to look at me. His fringe fell back off his face and in the dim the bright glitter of his eyes told me something very, _very _important.

"Wait! You aren't drunk at all, are you?"

"Nope." He wrapped his arms around my legs and buried his face in the side of my thigh. His forehead pressed to my crotch and I shuddered uncomfortably, beyond furious. The dick had _faked_ it! He had been lying! He let me drop my guard and… oh god!"

"Matthias it won't work!" kicking a little egged him to do no more than clutch tighter. Let me go!"

"Please Norgie… pleasepleaseplease?" his nose nudged the front of my trousers and I squealed, clapping my hand over my mouth to contain the noise. Pressed against the banister, I didn't dare to move too fast incase I fell backward. The glow from the base of the stairwell was welcoming… I wanted out!

"Matthias!"

"pleeeeasssseee…" he drew it out long and achingly. "please please please let me love you!"

I thought for a second, torn between my desire not to fall from the landing, the delight I took from Denmark NOT being happy, and the insanely hot feather feeling climbing my spine from his face in between my legs.

Finally, I made my decision. The words almost came out on a wave of barf when I said them.

"... Det her gælder som alle dine fødselsdagsgaver nogensinde." i swallowed a mouthful of slightly thick spit. "og jeg meaner det. _Nogensinde._"

He inhaled sharply. As though he hadn't actually thought i would ever say yes.

"ja, det jeg godt ved."

"okay then." I twitched my leg and he eased off in awe. He didn't get up off the floor for at least a minuite, preferring to gaze at me in hopeless wonder. Like he had never truly looked at me before.

I wrapped my arms around my chest and turned my face away.

"Well hurry up!" the skin on my arms prickled. "Hurry up and take your stupid gift!"

…

"Hey, hey, hey be GENTLE!"

It was a redundant request. Matthias had made quite a reputation for him self based on _not_ being gentle.

"It's my birthday." He paused in his fierce ripping at my clothing to shoot me an unfamiliar, slightly sinister grin. "I will be as rough as I like."

"Not with my body you won't. Now do it the way I say or don't do it at all." I glared at him, he glared back. An insolent smirk, he yanked my jeans off totally and cast them aside. The bed sunk beneath me was a reasonable size. The mattress was hard, and like everything he owned the coverlet was red and white. It occurred to me that red, as well as being his flag, might be his favourite colour. I didn't actually know. He jerked my trousers off properly and I scooted backwards. I still couldn't believe I was doing this…

"Right. Top off too, please. You can do it if you're so worried about being rough." He unbuttoned his own shirt with steady hands and set his fists on his hips without actually removing it. I didn't move, and after about twenty seconds of staring he realised I wasn't going to do what he had asked. I held my chin out of the way so he could do so instead. The bed frame creaked when he knelt facing me. My heart leapt.

Maybe it would be easier if I just didn't think.

Harsh lips, gentle somehow in their raggedness, clapped my own once more. He sucked gently, not using tongue yet, and it was actually pretty nice. I guess.

It wasn't awful. And the taste of booze had long since been kissed from his mouth.

"Ready?" his hands zipped up the seams of my waist, beneath my opened shirt, to my chest. The pads of his thumbs rubbed my nipples flatly, and I was overcome quite without warning by a wave of anxiety. My lips pressed together, so as not to break my expression. He mustn't know what I'm thinking. Because to give such vital information would be making it too easy and too enjoyable for him, and too humiliating for me. God, next year, I decided, I would buy the man some cutlery and be done with it.

"Hey, Norge." I felt his eyes rake my face, bright, blue, and dangerous beneath the smile. They came to rest on the one curl of hair by my collar, and lingered there. Leering at it obscenely, like it was something shameful or erotic. Which of course it was, but I had always assumed he hadn't known that, hence it hadn't worried me in the past.

"What?" I squirmed and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my ear. An involuntary shiver cascaded down my spine; I raised a hand and slid it through his surprisingly soft bed-head, so as not to loose balance.

"I always wanted to touch this." His nose nudged my curl, breath dancing over my earlobe and tingling at the nape of my neck. "Is it okay?"

"… mmm." I made the most non-committal noise I could, which he took as a yes, and bit my lip so hard it almost bled in order to hold silence when the tip of his tongue nudged it gently. He hesitated, to sense my reaction, and obviously got none (fortunately he couldn't see my face.) because he huffed thoughtfully and bit my neck in frustration.

"Damn, I could have sworn…" he trailed off, I squeezed my eyes closed, totally uncomfortable wit his chin on my shoulder, his larger body between my legs.

"Mm?"

"I could have sworn that should do something." Tentatively, he licked again and I twisted my fingers ever so little in the sheets.

He may as well have been licking around the crown of my dick.

I don't understand it, really, this stupid little thing bobbing right _there_ and begging to be abused. It's dammed inconvenient really. Accidental pulling, when it's a little warm and breezy, or when someone (Denmark) rape hugs me and his face gets a little too close. Sure, it wasn't bad having two ultra orgasmic places on my body, but did the other have to be so damn… blatant? It irritated me at the best of times, I more often than not tried to forget it. But that's hard to do when frustrated Denmark is pulling the whole thing into his mouth and twirling it around his tongue. The sucking noises he made were soft, but erotic. The warmth of his mouth was delectable. I didn't know what to do with myself. I couldn't react. I was too hopelessly lost and trembling like a sex toy vibrates. Cold sweat beaded on my brow but I forced myself. No noise. No noise at all.

Finally, after what seemed like a life time of torturous pleasure, he withdrew. I tried to hide my face, reddened as it was, and pinched my legs closer to disguise the fact the front of my underwear was saturated with slippery precum. It didn't escape him though. Because he stared at it in bemusement and confusion, wiping his lips with his index finger.

"What the… how did that…?"

I shook my head and pulled my knees closer. He wrenched them apart and stared at my crotch, erection disguised by the taught tent of pale blue cotton over it, soaked and sticky and perfumed in that familiar, stimulating way. Like the ocean. Sea salty…

"It's embarrassing!" I croaked, trembling hand hiding the lower part of my face. "Don't stare!"

"What? No! How could I not stare…" his fingers ran down my chest and settled in my crotch. "You're so beautiful." He tugged down the elastic of my underwear and there it was.

My cock.

Oh god, why?

"So I was right then." A mischievous grin on his part, he glanced up at me through his stubby blonde lashes and I gave him the most intense evils I have ever given anyone. "You get off on your hair curl."

"So what if I do?" it didn't sound anywhere near as commanding as it should have. He chuckled and leaned forward to murmur in my ear.

"My wrists."

"What?" I was too agitated and aroused to want to play his stupid games. Why would he not just do it already?

"My wrists… you get turned on by your hair… I like it when you touch my wrists." He nuzzled my neck and I furrowed my brow, he was doing something with his hands between us, and I couldn't see what. After about ten seconds, he leant back. His sleeves had been rolled up to his forearms, and I saw his bare wrists for the first time.

The first thing I noticed was that they were very slim, considering his strong and long fingered his hands were. They were… regal. Like a queens. Elegant and beautifully shaped. The second thing I noticed was the colouring. As though thousands of years of snow had stained them permanently ringed with blue and cold as ice. This faint tinge of wintry followed all the way up his arm under the folded sleeve if his shirt. It wasn't noticeable, more an unnatural cerulean glow that his skin seemed to emit. A thin ID bracelet, the kind given out at confirmations or christenings, adorned his right.

_Matthias Anderson_

It glimmered prettily in the low light of his bedside lamp.

Calmly he removed it and set it on the low side table, beside a glass bottle filed with tap water and a thick fantasy novel. He reached for my barrette too, unclipping it and letting the side of my bangs fall forward. I allowed this, eyes fixed on his hands. His beautiful hands…

They came to rest on my thighs, thumbs nudging the front of my underwear, and fully aware of what he wanted from me, but not all together sure if I should do it, I brought a hand down between my legs and touched the middle finger of his left hand hesitantly, stroking, shy and feeling a little more than awkward. His hand twitched, and I stroked a little longer, over the back and stopping just short of his jutting wrist bone. He had thick, weathered skin, but it was warm and surprisingly supple. A gentle huff, he lowered his forehead so it rested on my shoulder and took a steadying breath. I closed my eyes and dared to brush my touch up, over the knob of bone, and slid a bracelet of fingers right around. He wasn't kidding, obviously, because he shuddered like a motor turning over on a winter morning, hot breath a little shallower. My other hand loosely clamped his other wrist, and I sat there anxiously, waiting instructions. He gave none. I cleared my throat.

"It's your birthday present. Tell me what you want me to do?"

"Mm…" kisses on my shoulder, through the crumpled cloth of my top. "Just… rub. Like masturbating."

I tried that, a slight up down stroke, and he whined softly, head buried in my neck. It was a strange feeling, having this man who had always been so loud and boisterous, curled against me. His heartbeat was thunderous, I could actually hear it. It was strange.

His skin was frozen, like ice. I tightened my grip a little more when his tongue curled around that particular lock of hair, he leaned forward and we tumbled back into the pillows. His forearms lat either side of my head, I continued stroking wile he continued sucking, chest to chest and stomach to stomach we slotted together perfectly. His leg bent between mine and he pulled me backward, so I could lie on top with his mouth on my neck and his hands pinned above his head. The coarse fabric of his pants was good to rut against. Slowly, I did, melting against him and bringing his right wrist to my mouth to suck on the cold kink of bone beneath tight, pale skin.

He hissed, chest rising a little, and the hand not being attended to wriggled from my grip and down between us, into the front of my underwear once more. He seized his prize confidently, and I buried my face in his neck to hide my face.

"Let me see you." he insisted. His voice hummed with an unfamiliar husk. "I want to see your face."

Guiding my cock out was an easy task, considering how hard it was. His own followed swiftly afterward, and shyly, still running my thumb over the back of his wrist, I propped myself up and bowed my head. Maybe he wouldn't see my blush from this angle.

"Head back Norge…" his fingers were steady and slid down between us with ease. The wetness flowing glossily from my erection was matched by the warm, unfamiliar feeling of his own. The heat of having another mans cock, crushed alongside mine in the palm of a slippery hand, was an astonishingly intimate one. It gave me the impression of dissolving, of my crotch fusing seamlessly with his in a knot of pleasure as he began ever so slowly to tug.

"Matthias…" my head tipped to the side, the length of the bangs usually pinned back fell forward and obscured my face. I saw him though, through my lashes. His eyes half cast and glowing with a low pulse of want. His hips tilted steadily as he fisted us both. I breathed through my nose so I wouldn't pant, squeezing his wrist tight.

God it felt good.

His touch was unfamiliar and coarse, but also subtly knowing and quietly sure. Understanding how to touch a man… I suppose its one of the advantages. The way his wrist flicked up and his palm rubbed the heads briefly was maddening. The _hardness_ of it was exasperating.

He stopped suddenly, and thrust his hands into my thighs so as to pry them apart. I was shocked, but remained silent and wide legged kneeling above him. My erection dripped messily on his abdomen…

"I want to eat you like a cream cake." He murmured, mostly to himself I suspect, and I had a split second to try and make sense of that be fore he had me flipped, legs forced open as if on hinges and as wide as physically possible for anyone, man or woman. He took the crown, dribbling excitedly, between his lips without hesitation and I arched off the bed in shock and sensation. A wave of pleasure shivered through me and I blanked for the moment. But then I remembered, and fury jabbed me.

"Don't do that! That's dirty, and it wasn't part of the-uahhhhhhhh…"

My complaints dissolved into a blissful moan, my head dropped back and with a surprisingly clear mind I reflected on the fact my entire dick was down his throat, his gentle sucking pulsing calmingly all the way through my system.

"Oh Matthias…"

"Umhhhhh?" he cracked open his eyes questioningly and glanced up at me. I had to look away; the shear obscenity of seeing him perform oral sex was going to be burned into my memory forever. It made my heart do a weird thing and my hips shudder helplessly. I shook my head and through blurred eyes observed him slide back up, the cool air tingling on the warm wet surface he had just glossed with spit. His lips were so dark and firm, I wondered if mine were the same.

Again, he dipped his head and took me in, this time, I 'oh'ed as he did it, partly because it earned the reaction and also partially because I got off on seeing him blush with pride. When he slid all the way off again I whined, missing his heat.

"Lube?" he asked. "It's in the drawer on my side table.

I swallowed anxiously. Because it had been at the back of my mind, sure, but it only seemed real in that moment, what was about to happen between us. Denmark and I were going to have sex. And that meant…

I scrambled to get the lube, digging it out with shaking hands and not surprised at all to see that it was strawberry ice cream flavoured. He hummed in thanks and pushed me down on the bed, straddling me. My twisted, wet underwear was tugged off, his was slid smoothly down his hips with a wiggle and I actually felt a flash of vertigo looking at the size of the thing that was about to be inside me. It was thick, beautiful. His hair blonde and thicker than mine, trailed up his stomach and also cutely fuzzed over his testicles. His actual erection could not have been prettier on the eyes. I felt sort of uncomfortable with my own after looking at it. All my life I had been under the impression that all penises were ugly, but life is full of surprises.

"Open your legs, cream cake."

"Don't call me that!"

He smiled, but scowling I obliged.

"You look like one though. All sweet and delicious." His fingers wetted with lube trailed over my balls and down between my legs. "Open wider," he murmured, before carrying on with his little speech. "you're so pink here, like strawberries, and all this wet is like cream."

I whined and covered my teary face with my hands. It was so embarrassing! How could he even _say_ such things!

"Matthias don't! do what you're here to do and don't muck a-ROUND!" my voice leapt when his finger slid straight in, not a single wall of resistance was met thanks to my distracted state of mind but all the same it wasn't a comfortable experience. It was strange. Intrusive. I felt myself flicker and twitch around his digit and once again moaned in humiliation.

"Sorry… am I hurting?"

"No, hurry up! And don't look!"

"But it's so amazing to watch." He was gazing directly between my legs as he fingered, pressing slowly in and out and swirling the tip a little, while it was all the way in. "seeing a part of me inside you. I'm putting another finger in now, okay?"

I nodded hopelessly, not bothering to stop the tears now despite how stupid I must have looked. His second finger went in with a scraping shiver, he sniffed and twisted them and scissored them and hooked them. With every miniscule movement he made, I embellished the air with a breathless, blissful moan. I couldn't help it, and the hand clamped over my mouth did nothing.

His fingers were removed and re-lubed a few times, and this cruel toe curling teasing went on for almost three hellish minutes, in which I had been reduced to a trembling, begging puddle of disgrace, before finally he had me widely stretched and completely wet. I was lying in a puddle of precum and lube, the sweet cajoling scent of strawberry ice cream was making me hungry for more than food. My toes edged further out and found the edges of the queen bed we were laid on. My back was arched rigidly. His eyes raked my body starvingly.

"Wow…"

"Matthias!" a sobbing, sloppy whine, I tossed my sweaty hair and gasped for breath. "Please do it already!"

"Very well then." He grunted and set a hand on the inside of my thigh. "let's have sex."

As soon as I felt the head of his erection press to my body I broke out in cold sweat. The coil of heat at the small of my back began tingling and my trembling hands tugged and clenched greedily at the duvet. He slid it, up down, teasing around the place I wanted him most, and when he rolled backward and laughed softly I screeched in agitation, rolling over and planting a firm slap on his face.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. "Aren't you going to put it in?"

He pointed to his dick.

"Do it yourself."

So I did. I gritted my teeth, locked my legs kneeling and firm against his, and gripped his cock a little more roughly than necessary at the base. Lube ran down the inside of my thighs. It felt weird, but I hardly noticed.

"Asshole." I told him, trying to notch it into the place it would go in. I knew when I found it, because it touched like a feather to a sensitive and delicious spot, I keened and let myself drop in one go, to consume him completely.

"Oh god Danmark!" my head dropped back; through the sting of first penetration he was _hot._ His flesh throbbed inside me, huge and scraping against all the good places. A brand new pressure backed against my balls and base of my cock, I felt as though with his dick inside me my cum was going to shoot out at any second. It filled me, and it was so alive. I could feel everything, even the roll of his foreskin at the base of his head. It twitched like a creature inside of me, and without hesitation I knelt up to sheath the thing again. The heat that bloomed in my pelvic region made my vision hazy.

"Yes…" he whispered low and sexy. "Oh yeah Norge, do it like that." Fingers rubbed my hips, he helped me lift myself again and this time jolted his hips off the bed to meet me on the way down. I yelped, shoulders flexing, and leaned forward so I could clamp my hands either side of his head.

"Fuck! Norway!"

"Is it hot?" I asked him, unsure if he too could feel the fierce flames of passion roaring ruthlessly through my lower body. "Tell me, what's it like?"

"It's hot…" he was panting, head tossed to the side, face set in an almost pained expression. "and wet. And tight… go faster."

"I'm trying…" my mouth sealed against his, tongue begging through and sinking inside.

"mmm… Norge…"

"Ah…" open mouthed we kissed, I savoured the feeling of his tongue sliding over my own. The heat and the way it prodded and explored. His hands on my hips gripped inhumanly tight, so his nails dung in and stung. My pants were shared and mingled with his own. "fuuuck…!"

Skin slapping, the mattress creaking, the two of us _fucked._ With every snap of powerful hips I was impaled, crying, begging, moaning as each withdrawal pulled him slowly across a terribly primal, delicious spot deep inside me. My cries choked, my body quivered.

"Louder Norge." His one eye opened, locking on my hot face with a grimace, and his hand shifted from my hip to the back of my head. It tangled in my hair and pulled kind of roughly. "Scream, please, scream…"

"Hahh…?"

"I want… to hear you." His mouth melted with mine again and a particularly off timed thrust hammered that weird spot again, my back arched I couldn't contain the howl that blossomed in my chest. It made him wild, hand in my hair tightening, lips flooding darker than the strawberries he loved so much.

"Yes!" his head tossed, hair clinging to the veil of sweat on his forehead. "God yes! Louder! Say my name."

"M-Matthias!"

"Mm…" nose to nose I raked my fingers trough his soft, sweaty locks, through the mist of ecstasy his face was beautiful. More than beautiful. It was godlike and glorious, younger than it has been for years, and aggressive in that fierce, Viking way.

"Matthias…" I was loosing support behind my voice, overcome with breathlessness as we worked closer and closer to crashing, spidering orgasm. For the last, I could barely gasp breath, the head of his dick ground firmly against that place and he shuddered there, trembling and digging and pressing over the area no larger than a 5 crown coin while he spilled nonsensical Danish and worshiped my face with kisses. The heat that spurted inside of me was searing, and I dissolved into it with a drawn out groan, all the different sensations sweeping me into an orgasm so deep and endless I wondered of my heart had stopped, or if the world had stopped turning beneath me for a while. I rode it out steadily, huffing and whining and hunching my shoulders, hoping at some level that the fluctuating rolls of release would never end but also wishing I could just pass out into relief now and never have an orgasm again. When the tail end came around, and the last of my cum dribbled from the tip of my wilting dick, I ceased the tidal motion of my hips and collapsed against his sweaty, sticky chest. His arm wound around my back, he buried his face in the crown of my head and mumbled something incomprehensible. I never wanted to move again.

"Jeg elsker dig, Norge."

"mm."

"Vil du gerne sove hos mig i aften?"

"Im not going home now, dumbass. It's almost five o'clock."

He laughed giddily and stroked his fingers through my hair. "jeg forstå ikk'…"

I couldn't find the energy to hit him, so I jabbed his ribcage instead and he laughed harder. The tremble of his body was sending me sliding sideways, I rolled off and got comfortable in the crook of his arm.

"Idiot."

"Will you at least wish me a happy birthday then?" he murmured, tucking my bangs back and tracing his finger lightly around the shell of my ear. I groaned and buried my face against his body and breathed in his smell.

"tillykke then."

"tillykke med hva'?"

"don't push your luck."

He pinched my ear and sighed contentedly. "Best birthday gift ever."

I grunted and laced my fingers with his beneath the sheets. The inside of my legs were sticky, the small of my back felt strange and numb, but I couldn't deny that I felt good and warm all over. "Next year you're getting teatowels."

...SLUT...

_Flødeboller_- are Danish sweets popular at birthdays and such. Wafers with cream/marshmellowy goodness on them and coated in chocolate. They are, quite truly, the best thing ever.

…

_Gør det ikke!_- Dont do that!

_ja! __Hvad synes du, du laver? -_What do you think you are doing?

_tak fordi du kom! du ser så flot i aften...- _thanks for comming! You look beautiful tonight.

_lad slip på mig! -_Let me go!

_Hvad?... er der noget galt med mig? lugter jeg?_- what, is there somthing wrong? Do i smell?

_komme nu _– come on

_Det er det ikke. Du ved, hvad jeg vil har fra dig_- no its not, you know what i want from you.

_du forstå, ikke? Hvis du vil ikke snakke dansk, så skal jeg snakke det til dig, og du skal høre hvad det er jeg vil siger._ -You get it, right? If you wont speak danish I'll speak it to you and you have to listen to what i want to say.

_jeg elsker dig.- _i love you

_denne samtale er slut__...jeg vil køre hjem nu. du er fuld_- this conversation is over, im going home. youre full. (of alcohol)

_fuck dig_- fuck you.

_ja tak! Åh! Nej, norge, vent en øjeblik! ...Være så søde… -_yes please! Oh, no, norway, wait a sec. Be sweet? (please)

_vent!_- wait

_du! Du er… _-you! You are...

_vil du med og se min frimærkesamling?_- wanna come with me and see my stamp collection?

_hva'?_- huh?

_ah, du er så seriøse. Men det kan jeg godt lide ved dig._- ah, youre so serious. But thats why i like you.

_vil du gerne sove hos mig i aften?-_ will you sleep at my house tonight?

_jeg forstå ikk'…_- i dont undersatand you

_tillykke-_ congratulations

_tillykke med hva'?_- congratulations with what?


End file.
